6 When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep thou thy temper; mix not with each clay; Despatch necessities; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may. Yet keep those cares without thee, let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part. 7 Through all thy actions, counsels, and discourse, Let mildness and religion guide thee out; If truth be thine, what needs a brutish force? But what's not good and just ne'er go about. Wrong not thy conscience for a rotten stick; That gain is dreadful which makes spirits sick. 8 To God, thy country, and thy friend be true; If priest and people change, keep thou thy ground. Who sells religion is a Judas Jew; And, oaths once broke, the soul cannot be sound. The perjurer's a devil let loose: what can Tie up his hands that dares mock God and man? 9 Seek not the same steps with the crowd; stick thou To thy sure trot; a constant, humble mind Is both his own joy, and his Maker's too; Let folly dust it on, or lag behind. A sweet self-privacy in a right soul Outruns the earth, and lines the utmost pole. 10 To all that seek thee bear an open heart; Make not thy breast a labyrinth or trap; If trials come, this will make good thy part, For honesty is safe, come what can hap; It is the good man's feast, the prince of flowers, Which thrives in storms, and smells best after showers. 11 Seal not thy eyes up from the poor, but give Proportion to their merits, and thy purse; Thou may'st in rags a mighty prince relieve, Who, when thy sins call for't, can fence a curse. Thou shalt not lose one mite. Though waters stray, The bread we cast returns in fraughts one day. 12 Spend not an hour so as to weep another, For tears are not thine own; if thou giv'st words, Dash not with them thy friend, nor Heaven; oh, smother A viperous thought; some syllables are swords. Unbitted tongues are in their penance double; They shame their owners, and their hearers trouble. 13 Injure not modest blood, while spirits rise In judgment against lewdness; that's base wit That voids but filth and stench. Hast thou no prize But sickness or infection? stifle it. Who makes his jest of sins, must be at least, If not a very devil, worse than beast. 14 Yet fly no friend, if he be such indeed; But meet to quench his longings, and thy thirst; Allow your joys, religion: that done, speed, And bring the same man back thou wert at first. Who so returns not, cannot pray aright, But shuts his door, and leaves God out all night. 15 To heighten thy devotions, and keep low All mutinous thoughts, what business e'er thou hast, Observe God in his works; here fountains flow, Birds sing, beasts feed, fish leap, and the earth stands fast; Above are restless motions, running lights, Vast circling azure, giddy clouds, days, nights.